The floor of the room dove down—it spun sickeningly away and her legs were a hundred stories tall. Marion bent over in shock.

“Stop it, John!” she yelled.

“It was such a fury, everyone’s tempers were up, I don’t know—”

“Stop it! What are you doing? What the hell are you all doing out there? Don’t you see you’re making it worse?” She wanted to grab him and shake him, to shake all of them, to go and put them in a box where they couldn’t do themselves any more damage. “I’m trying to save you, that’s why I’m here! I’m trying to save all of you, but I can’t do it if you keep running around killing each other!”

“I’m sorry.” He looked devastated, as he should. “We were just doing what you told us to do.”

“Did I tell you to come here? Or did I specifically tell you not to? Did I tell you to kill Gisbourne?”

“We thought you were captive, Marion … we didn’t know…”

“What have you done?” Her thoughts threw to the gallows outside, and the hanging tomorrow. Gisbourne’s death, Scarlet’s escape, it meant immediate danger for William, for his hold on the sheriffcy, and by extension her own safety. “What is wrong with you? Lord Gisbourne?”

Little bobbed his head. “Robin.”

Her mind staggered at the consequences, racing down cruel paths that had no end. “Dear God. And then you two came here? You killed the Captain and came here afterward? Have any of you, have any one of you ever stopped to think about what you do? I can’t help you now, don’t you see that? If they catch Robin they’ll put him on the gallows tomorrow. Why in the hell would you do that?”

“We didn’t know.”

What a worthless bunch of words. “You should have known better!”

“You didn’t tell us what you were doing.”

“Get out of here!” She pointed at the door so harshly it could have cracked. “Before somebody sees you, get Robin, get out of Nottingham, right now! Let me make my instructions unmistakably clear this time. I command you to get Robin back to the others, and just … just do nothing. For God’s sake, for once, just do nothing. Don’t rescue anyone, don’t kill anyone. Get drunk, sleep for a week, and let me handle this!” Her face burned, her hands clenched into fists, she wanted to rip the walls down. She didn’t mean to take it out on him, but he could take it. “We are on the verge of bringing things back to some kind of order here, we are on the edge, the very edge of succeeding—for once!—but you all just keep stirring things up!”

John put his hands up. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I’ll go.”